Tokyo Detective Chronicles

When Fushimi Iori came out of the basement, it was already noon on the third day.

Pushing open the heavy metal door, the blinding sunlight streaming down from above the stairs made him squint uncomfortably. After spending two days and two nights in the pitch-black basement, his sense of time had become blurred.

Behind him, the sphere of obsessive light in the operating room had now expanded to a terrifying degree.

Just two days ago it was only suspended in mid-air, but today it has reached the ceiling.

The dark red color on the surface of the sphere flowed endlessly, and its volume increased every second, as if it were about to burst the room.

Fushimi even began to wonder if this obsession, if converted into a reward, might directly grant him the power to destroy the entire city of Tokyo.

Otherwise, how could it be worthy of its size?

"..."

He stood at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath.

In the past two days, he made thorough preparations for his return to the underworld. He spent more than half a day reading through all the files related to cults sent by the black market.

To be honest, I still don't have many clues.

The archives mostly contain scattered social news records from that time and vague eyewitness reports. Only a small portion contains photos and videos, but these have all been severely damaged and altered.

As for the content from the last century and even earlier, only some scattered descriptive texts remain, which were clearly under the strict control of the Special Affairs Section.

The only thing he can be sure of right now is that it is indeed a cult, and it is hiding in the mortal world reflected in that hospital.

Fushimi eliminated most of the completely irrelevant information and commissioned the black market to conduct a second round of more precise and in-depth information gathering.

Time is running out for him.

This morning, he walked to the worktable and pulled out his phone from under a pile of anatomical records and experimental data.

The screen lit up, and a series of unread messages flooded in, mostly from Rina Hoshizaki.

The earliest message was sent yesterday at noon, along with a video.

The footage was shaky, and the person filming was clearly very nervous.

The photographer was Hoshizaki herself, judging from her face that appeared in the shot by chance; she was biting her lip and frowning.

The video shows a classroom at Kiyosumidai High School.

At first, everything was normal, until the camera turned to the blackboard, where dozens of insects densely covered the entire surface of the blackboard...

The caterpillars were unusually plump, each as thick as an adult's finger, and they slowly wriggled on the dark green surface, secreting a viscous liquid.

The classroom was in chaos, with desks and chairs knocked over and scattered everywhere.

The students made a racket, screaming as they retreated to the back of the classroom. Several girls covered their faces and started crying.

Then the really strange thing is...

The caterpillars' movements were not random; they slowly adjusted their positions, their bodies intertwined and stacked together, forming a perfectly clear number "6" on the blackboard.

"..."

"Who did this?!"

A roar can be heard in the video as a bespectacled boy pushes through the crowd to the blackboard; he's probably the class monitor for Hoshizaki's class: "This kind of prank is outrageous!"

He picked up the broom, intending to clean up the disgusting caterpillars.

The moment the broom touched the insect's body...

The class monitor froze.

His eyes were wide open to the limit, and his mouth was agape but no sound came out.

Then, his body began to convulse violently, as if pierced by an invisible electric current, and he fell straight backward.

"Bang!"

His head slammed heavily onto the floor.

The caterpillars on the blackboard instantly lost their lives, fell off one by one, and landed on the ground.

The video abruptly ended at that moment.

Fu turned off the video without expression and swiped his finger down.

During the two days he was out of contact, Hoshizaki sent him many messages, and it seems that the class monitor was alright.

They were simply quite frightened.

This strange number "6" undoubtedly contrasts with the number "7" made of the blood of office workers that was previously found on the tram.

7...6...

The numbers are decreasing, is this a countdown...? What will happen after the countdown ends?

Fushimi turned off his phone and walked to the window on the first floor.

He could clearly sense that the signs of pollution were becoming increasingly obvious and had begun to erode the present world.

In the yard, several once thriving green plants had withered, their leaves blackened and curled, and their stems oozing dark red.

The sink was teeming with insects, and several sparrows had died in the yard for unknown reasons... The little monsters were trying to clean it up.

But when the water pipe was turned on, blood gushed out directly.

The little monsters were so frightened that they squealed and scattered.

The courtyard was in chaos.

The warning and intimidation were so obvious they couldn't be clearer.

Something had already set its sights on him and Hoshizaki, and the time when they were being targeted might have been as early as when the two of them first visited Takeda-sensei. It was just that Fushimi's actions intensified the other party's actions.

Today is the fifth day to go...

He had no idea what would happen after the countdown ended.

But it certainly won't be anything good.

He decided to take action ahead of time to eliminate the potential threat.

Because he couldn't bring his shikigami into the mortal world, he thought of other ways to strengthen himself.

Over the past two days, he used a projection array to summon the phantoms of Tengu and Yuki-onna in the basement. These two were yokai he had collaborated with many times before; they were powerful and reliable.

In the basement, Fushimi explained the cause and course of events to the two men.

Because they were acquaintances, and Fushimi had a very good reputation among them, they readily agreed to Fushimi's request.

But borrowing power comes at a price.

He used 20% of his soul as collateral to temporarily exchange for 40% of the other party's abilities.

They only took some trinkets and sake made by Fushimi, which can be described as very generous.

At the moment the contract was signed, Fushimi felt a part of his soul being drawn out, turning into two faint specks of light that traveled a great distance and were temporarily stored in a shrine somewhere between Mount Kurama and Mount Zao.

My body felt lighter, but also emptier.

It felt as if something important had been taken away, leaving me with an empty feeling.

At the same time, two unfamiliar forces began to flow within him... slowly merging and achieving a delicate balance.

Aside from holding ceremonies and reviewing files, he spent all his remaining time making talismans.

It took until now to finally make up for the previous losses.

This can be considered as making quite sufficient preparations for entering the ordinary world, but it is still not enough.

He also needs to solve the problem of not being able to open his eyes in the mortal world.

Fushimi straightened up, his neck making a slight "click" sound. Maintaining one posture for a long time had made his shoulders and back a little stiff.

He checked the time; it was four o'clock in the afternoon.

Outside the window, the sky began to darken.

Dark clouds rolled in from the east, hanging low over the city and completely obscuring the light of the setting sun.

It is going to rain.

Fushimi walked to the entrance and took his coat off the hanger.

He changed into a set of clothes that allowed for easy movement: black tactical trousers, a dark gray windbreaker, and a cut-resistant inner lining.

Then he went out.

His destination was an unassuming electronics store in Shinjuku, where he needed to retrieve special equipment he had ordered two days earlier.

It started raining shortly after he left.

At first, it was just a few raindrops, making a soft "patter" sound as they hit the asphalt road.

Soon, the rain intensified, the dense rain streaking diagonally in the halo of the streetlights. Thunder rolled across the sky, its deep, oppressive rumble echoing.

There was almost no one on the streets.

Occasionally, a vehicle would drive by, its tires splashing water as they ran over the puddles.

Fushimi sat in the taxi and soon arrived at his destination.

The shop was small, with some old radios and cameras displayed in the window, making it look like it was about to close down.

When I pushed the door open, the doorbell rang with a dull sound.

Behind the counter sat a bald, middle-aged man, wearing reading glasses and repairing an antique camera. Hearing the bell, he didn't even look up: "We're closed."

"Has my order arrived?" Fushimi asked.

The man looked up, glanced at him through his glasses, and then recognized him: "Oh, it's you. We're here. Wait here."

He slowly got up, lifted the curtain leading to the back room, and went inside.

A few minutes later, he came out carrying a black metal box and placed it on the counter.

The box was heavy and had no markings on its surface.

Everything you need is inside.

The man said, "The action camera is specially made; the lens has a special coating that allows it to maintain clear imaging even in a visionary environment. The communication equipment is also specially designed to function normally in the mortal world."

"And also some live streaming equipment you requested... As long as the psionic energy supply is sufficient, there won't be any delays."

"Yes, that's enough."

Fushimi paid the balance and picked up the suitcase.

As he was leaving, the man called out to him from behind: "Hey, kid."

Fushimi turned around.

"Where are you going to take these things?"

The man scratched his bald head, realizing he shouldn't have asked such a question: "Things haven't been peaceful in Changshi lately..."

"Thank you." Fushimi nodded and left through the door.

……

The rain is getting heavier again.

Fushimi opened his umbrella, picked up his suitcase, and stepped into the rain.

He walked to the alley entrance, ready to hail a taxi.

Just then, his phone vibrated. He took it out and saw it was a message from Rina Hoshizaki.

Iori, where are you?

This was followed by a worried expression.

Fushimi thought for a moment and replied:

[Shopping in Shinjuku.]

Messages are replied to almost instantly:

[I'm in Shinjuku too! Just finished cram school, it's raining so hard, and I didn't bring an umbrella...]

A crying cat emoji was attached to the end.

Fushimi sighed.

He looked at the sky; the rain was indeed getting heavier, and the water on the street was already above his ankles.

Send me your location.

A few minutes later, Fushimi found Hoshizaki Rina in front of a convenience store.

She was crouching under the eaves, clutching her bag, her hair disheveled by the wind, a few strands of wet hair clinging to her cheeks. Upon seeing Fushimi, her eyes lit up, and she stood up and jogged over.

"Iori!"

The tone was relaxed.

Fushimi tilted the umbrella slightly towards her: "Why didn't you bring an umbrella?"

"It wasn't raining when I left this morning..." Hoshizaki stuck out her tongue, naturally slipped under the umbrella, and stood next to him. "Besides, the weather forecast said it wouldn't rain until evening, but it rained earlier than expected."

She always had a faint fragrance about her.

Fushimi didn't say anything, but simply moved the umbrella a little closer to her.

The rain pattered against the umbrella.

"What's this?" Hoshizaki asked curiously, looking at the box in his hand.

"Some photography and live streaming equipment."

"Huh?" She blinked. "Are you going to do a live stream?"

Fushimi glanced at her.

Hoshizaki immediately realized what was happening, and the smile on his face faded slightly: "Ah... is it about that?"

"Um."

The shops on both sides of the street lit up one after another, and the warm yellow glow spread in the rain, adding a touch of warmth to the damp and cold night.

"Iori," Hoshizaki suddenly said, her voice very soft, "is there anything I can do for you?"

Fushimi did not answer immediately.

"Tonight... I do need your help with something."

Hoshizaki immediately turned around, looking at him with bright, sparkling eyes.

"What? What?"

……

After a while, Fushimi took her home in a taxi.

"Then go home and change your clothes first, then come to my house tonight."

"Okay!"

Hoshizaki nodded: "I'll go back, take a shower, and then I'll come over!"

As she spoke, she slipped out from under the umbrella, ran into the rain, and in a few steps returned to the eaves of Hoshizaki's house. She then turned back and waved to him.

Fushimi stood there, watching her figure disappear into the house, before turning around with the suitcase and heading towards his own home.

The box is very heavy.

The wind whipped up raindrops that pounded against the windows, creating a deafening thud. Thunder grew closer, and flashes of lightning occasionally ripped through the night sky, illuminating the courtyard in a stark white light.

Fushimi pushed open the door to his house.

The living room was dark, with no lights on, so dim that you could barely make out outlines.

And on the white wall directly opposite the entryway...

A huge number "5" was painted with a dark red, viscous liquid.

There are traces of liquid that has dried at the edges, and the strokes are rough as if they were scratched out with fingernails. There are tear-like marks at the edges where the liquid has dried.

He was only gone for less than two hours.

The color had oxidized to the point of turning black, giving it a murky texture in the dim light.

The air was filled with a rusty, putrid stench.

His long-standing experience constantly reminded him that it was the taste of blood...

As for the source of the blood, it was a dead fox lying beneath those blood-stained words... In a metropolis like Tokyo, an animal like a fox should obviously only appear in a zoo.

But Fushimi happens to recognize it; it's a little yokai who often visits Fushimi's house and occasionally brings him seasonal fruits from the mountains.

At this moment, the fox was dead, its eyes half-open, pupils dilated, reflecting the shadows on the ceiling.

His neck was twisted into an unnatural angle, and his limbs were stiffly stretched out.

Enough blood was squeezed out to complete the text on the wall.

Fushimi stood at the entrance, not going in immediately.

His gaze moved from the blood-stained words on the wall to the fox's corpse, and then to every corner of the living room.

Sensing the changes around me... the killer is gone...

Fushimi clenched his fist, then relaxed it, slowly walked into the living room, squatted down, and gently stroked the fox's fur with his fingers. It was now cold and stiff, and the fur was matted with blood.